


Tattoos

by HandwithQuill



Category: A-Team (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-28
Updated: 2012-11-28
Packaged: 2017-11-19 19:04:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/576621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HandwithQuill/pseuds/HandwithQuill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yes, another from the A-Team prompts. This one was for Hannibal to have gotten all the boys tattoos to mark them as his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Hannibal stared at the three papers in front of him. Eyes raking over every detail, making sure they were perfect. It had taken him a while to come up with just the right images. And now that he had them, he ran a finger over the sketches in front of him, wondering which was first. He stopped at the one on the left, nodding he lifted his cigar to his mouth, smirking. He put the three papers in a file and stood to go find his mechanic.

It was only a short trip to B.A.'s apartment. He hated when his boys couldn't live with him, let alone together. Riffling through his keys for the one to Bosco's door, he snorted remembering the BS the base commander gave him about enlisted men not respecting their officers if the bunked together. The only good thing about it was that it gave them some privacy. He sat on the couch, not turning on any lights, waiting for his Sergeant to come home. The red of the setting sun had turned into the shadows of twilight by the time the door opened. Bosco stood there, uniform jacket hanging by a crooked finger over his shoulder.

“Boss?” B.A. dropped his gear, shut and locked the door behind him.

“Sergeant.” Hannibal said, snubbing out his cigar in the ashtray that Bosco gotten for him, and stood. He marched over to the mechanic and grabbed at the short hair of his mohawk, tilting his head back and claimed his mouth, pulling him down the hall to the bedroom. This was how it was between them. If he wanted playful, he went to Face, sweet and loving -Murdock, but hard, rough, and visceral was Bosco. Clothes litter the way, so that they were naked by the time they reached the bed, there also might be a dent or two in the drywall of the hallway.

Bosco fell as his knees met the edge of the bed. Moving back quickly, as the bedside drawer was opened, he heard the cap of lube flipped open and he rolled onto hands and knees, prepared. His hips were gripped and a slicked cock was thrust all the way in. His head flew back as he howled at how good it felt. It had been awhile since they had been together and, Hell, had he missed the feeling of the Boss inside of him.

Pulling almost all the way out, then thrusting hard back in, pulling his Sergeant's hips back to meet his, Hannibal started a furious rhythm. Adjusting and readjusting his angle, he deliberately avoided B.A.’s prostate, letting he head of his cock brush passed it on each thrust.

“Now, Boss! Please, so close, so-so-ohh!” Bosco sifted his weight to one hand and reached between his legs, needing friction on his cock. Pulling all the way out, Hannibal froze.

“Did I say you could do that, Sergeant?” the mechanic groaned in dismay even as he got harder at the commanding voice Hannibal used.

“No,” he moaned.

“No, what?”

“NO SIR!”

“Better.” Hannibal didn’t thrust back in, but spun B.A. around, gathered his leg and teased his entrance with the head of his cock.

“Who do you belong to, Sergeant?”

“You, Boss!”

“Who else sees you like this?”

“No one, only you, sir” Hannibal slipped the head of his erection in.

“Not even someone else on the team?”

“No! Only you, boss. Only ever you.” He slid all the way in, once again brushing against the prostate.

“I’m the only one who can claim you! Whenever I want, anyway I want!”

“Yes, Colonel. Any way you want!”

“Good!” Hannibal started pounding away, this time hitting B.A.’s prostate hard every time. Bracing a hand above Bosco’s, he leaned taking the mechanic mouth in a kiss while his other hand wrapped around the erection trapped between them. It wasn’t too long before warm fluid jerkily spilled over his hand and the muscle he was embedded in tightens around him. His own hips thrust erratically as his orgasm overtook him.

He rested his forehead against the Sergeant’s left pectoral, waiting for B.A. to recover. When he felt the large hands caress his back, he kissed the spot.

“Here, Bosco. We’ll go tomorrow and get it here.”

&& && &&

“Hey, Baracus, new ink?” Bosco looked up from the jeep he was working on. A fellow Sergeant was standing there looking at his chest. It had been a week since that night and it was the first day he wasn’t required to keep it under the sterile bandage.

“Yeah,” he said, smiling. A smile that turned into a frown at the look on the other guys face. “What?”

“Nothing, it’s just...It’s just not something I thought you would get.”  
His hand came up and caressed the image permanently etched into his skin. Remembering his own feelings when Hannibal showed him the sketch. The little animal was standing on its back feet, one paw outstretched, claws extended.

“I pick this,” Hannibal had said, “Because badgers have been known to take on bigger stronger opponents to protect their families. Families made up of two or three mates that they form lifelong bonds with.”

“Well, you thought wrong. It’s most definitely something I would have picked.”


	2. Chapter 2

Face arched up as his eyes rolled back into his head, a hoarse moan escaping his lips. Even as the synapse in his brain fired off randomly, he could feel his release cooling on his chest. Hannibal still held his legs and cracking his eyes open he saw that the Boss was smirking at him. Raising an eyebrow, he rhythmically tightened his muscles, smirking back at Hannibal when the Colonel’s eyes fluttered. 

They had stumbled into bed a few hours ago, straddling the line between tipsy and drunk. They had fallen into Face’s bed fighting over control of a kiss. Touching and caressing each others sweet spots, trying to make the other make a sound first. Hannibal had won, of course, drawling his fingers down the small of Face’s back into the crease of his ass, pulling a moan out of the lieutenant. That caused Face to lunge forward, trapping the Boss under him. He started s slow meandering path down Hannibal’s chest with his tongue. He made a swipe at the head of Hannibal’s cock, when the world spun and he was on his stomach, knees under him, ass in the air. He grabbed a pillow and buried his face in it, not wanting to wake Murdock, as the colonel’s tongue worked at his opening. 

Scrambling in the bedside table, he threw the lube back to Hannibal. He couldn’t help the whimper at the loss of the tongue even as it was replaced with fingers pressing deeper inside. He was starting to move back into them when they were gone as well. His legs were pushed apart more and Hannibal slid inside, reaching under him to grasp his length. Because of the alcohol in their system, it wasn’t too long before they found their release. Face’s knees gave out as Hannibal collapsed on top of him, pressing him flat on the bed. Hannibal moved his hips, thrusting his half hard erection deeper into Face, chuckling into the nape of his neck

“I think we woke Murdock.” Face tilted his head to the wall that their bedrooms shared. He could hear the pilot’s moans and imagined what it would look like as Murdock’s hand worked fervently between his legs. 

They dozed for a little while and when Face woke up he was laying on Hannibal’s chest. He kissed his way down, loving the sounds a waking Hannibal was making. He took the rapidly swelling member into his mouth, tongue running up and down the underside until he heard the metallic clank.

“What the-” Hannibal cut off as both of their eyes raised to the cuff restraining the Boss' hands to the headboard. “Face?”

“My turn.” he crawled up and forced his tongue into Hannibal’s mouth. “Missed you so much, Boss.” he said pulling back and straddling the Colonel's waist, pressing back against Hannibal's erection. “Was getting worried, You've spent most of the last month with Bosco. Thought maybe you were changing the way this worked.”

“Never, Kid! Never letting you go!” he pulled at the cuffs, “Let me outta these and I'll show you.”

“Nope, said it was my turn.” he pressed a finger to the Boss's mouth, parting his own lips as Hannibal took it in, swirling his tongue around it. He thought for a moment about scooting forward and pressing his aching length into the warm cavern, fucking Hannibal's face, spilling his release down the Boss' throat. But decided against it, he's leave that for some other time when he wasn't still a little drunk. Instead he let his finger trail out of Hannibal's mouth and braced it on his chest as he lifted onto his knees, his other hand reached behind him as he slowly took Hannibal back into his body. “Watch me, Boss.” 

Both of his hands caressed his chest, one stopping to circle a nipple, the other falling to his cock. His eyes were on Hannibal's as the hand on his cock matched the rhythm of his rising and falling knees. He moaned as the Boss' eyes flicked from his eyes, to his chest, then to his other hand. 

“Ohh, Boss, so good,” he moaned as he came down hard. He tongue licked at his lips. “wish there was some way I could suck you while you were fucking me.” he raised the hand from his chest and slid three fingers in his mouth, moving it in and out, tongue caressing, moaning wantonly. 

His rhythm was just speeding up when a thunk caught his attention. He had just enough time to see Hannibal through the cuffs away before his back met the bed. Hannibal gathered Face's knees in his elbows, planted his hands above Face's shoulders, bending the conman in half. 

“You're mine, Face!” He growled furiously, hips snapping forward rapidly. “Always have been, from the moment our eyes met on your first day of Basic and you always will be. I don't care how many women you dally with, just so long as you remember that YOU...BELONG...TO...ME!”

The last four words were accompanied by direct, sharp hits to his prostate causing Face to arch up as his eyes rolled back into his head, a hoarse moan escaping his lips. Even as the synapse in his brain fired off randomly, he could feel his release cooling on his chest.

Coming back to himself, he saw that Hannibal was sitting cross legged with Face's left leg on his shoulder, staring at the calf. He was frowning slightly as his fingers traced a patter on it. He dropped he leg and reached over the side of the bed for his pants.

“Boss?” Hannibal ignored him and pulled a folded up piece of paper out of his back pocket. Unfolding the paper, he picked up Face's leg again and pressed the paper to the calf. “Boss?” he asked again.

“Hmm, might need to shrink it a little. You're calf is a little smaller then I thought.” he kissed the calf as Face grabbed the paper out of his hands. 

It was a pencil drawling of a bird taking flight, with fire underneath it. “A bird?”

“Not just a bird, Face. You've had to deal with so much shit in your life, Kid.” Hannibal told him, taking the paper, putting it on the table and laying next to the lieutenant, gathering him close. “Too much for someone so young, but every time you get put through a trial by fire, you rise above it and remake yourself into something new, better. You're my personal Phoenix, Templeton.”

&& && &&

Bosco quietly closed the door to Hannibal's office behind him. He was about to drop into one of the chairs when he saw Face sleeping on the couch. What caught his attention was not that the fashion conscious conman was only wearing thin t-shirt and a ratty old pair of cut off camos, but the splash of color on his leg. A phoenix the same color blue as Face's eyes was taking flight from the fire it escaped from. The feel of eyes on him woke Face and he met B.A.'s eyes. They shared a smile as B.A.'s hand dipped into his shirt and touched the badger there.


	3. Chapter 3

Hannibal was pissed!

He stormed down the hallway and into his office. If he was any less angry, he might have felt a moment of worry as the glass rattled in its frame as he slammed the door. 

They had stolen his pilot again!

He dropped into his chair, throwing the paperwork onto the desk. General Maxwell was a bastard. His rivalry with Russ extended to those that Russell Morrison favored, Hannibal being on the top of that list. 

Hannibal knew that with his impressive skills with anything with wings, that Murdock was sometimes needed on missions that didn’t require the rest of the team. That didn’t bother him; it was part of Army life. What had pissed him off so much was that he didn’t hear about it until he had lunch with Face.

“Where did they send him and how long will he be gone?” The Lieutenant had asked, dropping into the seat next to him. Hannibal blinked.

“Who?”

“Murdock. A Sergeant from Maxwell’s office came by around six this morning to get him. Wouldn’t tell me where he was going, though. Just that he was needed.”

Hannibal had stood up and marched over the Maxwell’s office. He somehow managed to keep his tone on just this side of civil. Demanding to know where his pilot had gone and when he was returning. Maxwell had looked at him, a condescending smile on his lips and said that he was sorry that Hannibal hadn’t been informed, but the whereabouts of Captain Murdock and when he was to return was need to know.

There was a tentative knock at the door.

“GO AWAY!” he snarled, pulling a cigar out of a pocket, lighting it, he let the nicotine flow thought his system. He opened the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled the last paper out of its folder. The last time they had sent the pilot out without telling him, Murdock had spent two months in the hospital recovering. One in a medically induced coma after his heart stopped twice. 

‘Please,’ he begged, running a finger along the sketch. ‘Let his Adoringly Sweet Ranger Pilot come back unharmed.’

The door opened and Face peeked his head in. When Hannibal didn’t bite it off, he entered the office and flopped onto the couch. 

“I believe I said go away, Lieutenant.”

“Yeah, you did.” Hannibal snorted again, his mood lifting slightly just by Face's presence. 

“Don't worry, Boss. HM will be okay.” He propped his feet on Hannibal's desk. “He can take care of himself.”

“I know he can.” the Colonel replied, reaching out and running his hand down Face's left calf. “I just don't like my boys being out there without me.” he slipped the paper back into the folder with a sigh. 

&& && &&

A week later Hannibal was putting away groceries when a knock on the door had him frowning. It was just past nine at night and it could only be bad news. He opened the door with trepidation. 

“Captain Murdock reporting, Colonel Smith, sir!” the pilot stood there, still in his flight suit, lop sided smile that Hannibal loved on his lips. He raised a hand and gave a sloppy salute. As it fell back to his side, Hannibal grabbed it and pulled the Captain inside. Shutting and locking the door, he dragged him down the hall. 

The anxiety that he had spent the week with had only diminished a slight bit at the sight of his pilot. The bandage taped to Murdock’s forehead still had him worried and determined to see what other injuries were present.

Once in his bedroom, he unzipped the flight suit, eyes hardening at the hiss Murdock let out as he pushed it off his shoulders. The pilot stepped out of his boots as Hannibal stripped it the rest of the way off. Hannibal eased the T-shirt up over Murdock’s head, revealing another bandage on his upper left arm. He sighed, as he saw no more signs when removing the khaki pants. He encouraged Murdock to lay in the center of the king sized bed, while stripping out of his own clothes.

“Give your report, Captain.” He said, slipping in next to him. As Murdock started talking, Hannibal’s hands reached out and mapped his skin. He trailed a finger around the bandage on Murdock’s head, then skipped down to his right shoulder. He kissed the bullet wound there, gotten on the second mission after he had started the team’s unique relationship. His hands and lips moved over to HM’s left side. He ran his tongue along the knife wound that the pilot refused to tell him how he got. 

He caressed and kissed the place of every cut, nick, scrap, and scar his mental inventory of the pilot remembered, all the way down to the side of his right heel and the scar he got from sliding under a fence as a child. Moving back up, he laid a second round of kisses on the mass of raised scars on the Murdock’s abdomen. The one’s he had gotten last time. The one’s that nearly took the pilot from him. 

“You haven’t mentioned these, James.” Laying next to the pilot again, he motioned to the bandages. 

“Oh, they’re nothing, sir, one of the bullets was real friendly like, tried to say hello, but I thought it might be a trick and jumped out of the way. Maybe should have been a little quicker. And this.” He pointed to his head, before sighing, “Well, we hand a newbie, who didn’t know how much of a kickback his rifle had. He fell back into me and I got clunked.” Murdock cupped Hannibal’s cheek. “I’m alright, John.”

He leaned in, kissing the colonel, pulling Hannibal forward pressing them together in the middle of the bed. For a while they did nothing but kiss. Light kisses, traded back and forth. Then one of their tongues came out, asking for entrance, deepening it. They moaned, hands reaching for each other. Hips moving towards each other as their members hardened. A hand reached under the pillow, grabbing the tube that was always there, before rolling them. Pulling one leg onto his shoulder, he reached down and prepared his partner. 

Even though it started out slowly, they were both ready quickly. Positioning himself, Murdock eased himself in to Hannibal’s body. He pulled out and thrust back in slowly, letting the boss feel every inch of him. Keeping that rhythm, he wondered if Face or Bosco every let this happen. Wondered if they even realized that sometimes Hannibal didn’t want to be the Boss, didn’t want to be in control. That he wanted to be made love to, to be comforted. He really seemed to need it when Murdock was injured, needed to have Murdock prove that he was okay. 

The pilot knew it was selfish, but he kinda hoped that the other two didn’t know, it was nice to have something between just him and the Boss.

Hannibal was letting small sounds escape this throat, pushing back into Murdock. Seating himself fully inside, Murdock lifted the Boss’ hip, and in a contortion's move, leaned down and took the Hannibal’s cock into his mouth. His tongue traced down the sides, before swirling around the head. The pilot moaned as he took the taste in. Hannibal’s hands were clawing at his shoulders. He gave one last suck, before moving up and thrusting his tongue into the boss’ mouth, speeding up his hips at the same time. When he felt Hannibal tighten around him, he reached between them and took the aching erection in his hand, a few quick pulls was all it took. He followed a few thrust later. 

He collapsed onto his right side and it wasn’t long before Hannibal rolled over as well, pulling Murdock in. one of Hannibal’s hands came up, tracing along the top of Murdock’s left shoulder. The Colonel didn’t mean to sleep, but he found his eyes opening a short time later. The smirk reflected in Murdock’s let him know it wasn’t too long. But must have been long enough, because, when he leaned in to place a chaste kiss on the pilot’s lips, his body was swamped with the intense need he usually felt around his boys. He rolled Murdock under him and showed him who he belonged to. 

&& && &&

Hannibal was not surprised to find Murdock not in bed when he awake, no matter how awake he pretended to be at five hundred hours, he could never do it on as little sleep as the pilot got. He rolled out of bed, pulled on a pair of sleep pants, and ambled down the hall. In the kitchen he accepted the cup of coffee that was thrust into his hand as he was maneuvered to the table. 

He rested his head in his hand as he watched his pilots dance around his kitchen enjoining the show as the breakfast food revolted against the dishes. The caffeine from the first cup of coffee had made its way through his brain when he stood and darted into his study. Murdock was putting the two plates on the table when he came back. He placed the folded up paper between their plates. Murdock contemplated it for a long moment, before poking it once with his fork, then ignoring it as he started to eat. 

After the dishes were washed and put away, Murdock hopped up on the kitchen island. He stared at the paper and when Hannibal came close, he snagged him with his legs, pulled him to stand in front of him, facing away. He wrapped his legs around Hannibal's waist and folded his arms under the Boss', and rested his chin on the Colonel's shoulder. 

“That my Tat?” he asked.

“Yes.” Hannibal leaned back, trying to see the pilot's eyes. 

“It took a while, didn't it?”

“Hm. You're a complicated man, James Murdock. Trying to encapsulate you into a single image is impossible. There are so many qualities to you that I wanted it to express. I was over thinking it for a while. Then I realized that because you are so complicated, I needed a simple image that could mean multiple things. You are so many things, James, wrapped up in a single package.” Hannibal leaned forward, trying to get the paper, but Murdock tightened his hold. Finally, Hannibal reached out with a long leg and snagged the table, pulling it close so he could reach the sketch. He handed it back to the pilot, who sighed into his neck before unfolding the paper. 

“It’s not for the ancient meaning, right?” he asked after a few moments. 

“No, though it’s kind of true for our enemies.” Hannibal replied, with a laugh. “It’s for the fact that you know there is another meaning. It’s for the number of time I’ve ran my plans before you and you always point something out.” He spun in Murdock’s grip. “For those reason, the symbol of Athena fits you.” He brought a hand up and caressed the dark circles under the pilot’s eyes. “But it’s also for the countless sleepless nights you endure. When you come up with most of your personality, or your next movement. Maxwell’s staff is still looking for their golf balls. It’s also,” he continued, lifting Murdock’s t-shirt over his head. “about first impressions.” He ran his hand along Murdock’s biceps. “People forget that the Owl is a bird of prey. As deadly to those it hunts as an hawk or eagle.” 

“And the flower in it’s beak?” Hannibal rested his head against Murdock’s neck, placing kisses along his left shoulder.

“A white lily means youthful innocent. I don’t know how you do it, but every day is a clean slate for you. No matter what we see, how many dictators we take down, you never let it get to you. Your heart is always pure.” Hannibal looked up. “James...I..”

Murdock lifted his hand, pressing a finger against Hannibal’s lips. 

“You don’t have to say it. I already know. And I love you too, John.” Hannibal kissed him, tightening his hold of the pilot’s waist, pick him up and took him back to bed.


	4. Chapter 4

Hannibal tried to be quite as he opened the door to the motel room. He hoped that Murdock at least was sleeping. Even with a Kevlar helmet, the bullet to the head wasn't good for his sleep deprived pilot. The numerous plastic bags hanging off his arm contained a limited number of supplies that he had managed to get for the four of them. Putting the on the dresser, he looked at the large bed.

Murdock lay on his side, facing the door. His head was turned so that his face was smashed into the pillow, giving Hannibal a clear view of the purple owl on his shoulder. Face was spooned behind him, arm around the pilot's waist, leg thrown over Murdock's. Blue Phoenix shining from his calf. Bosco was slotted in behind Face. One arm under Face's head, the other cupping the conman's hip. The black outline of the badger visible over Face's shoulder. 

Hannibal sighed happily at the sight of his boys together. Since Lynch had broken him out of prison, there had always been plans to make, no time for him to be with his boys. His shirt was quickly discarded. And as his hands pushed his pants and undergarments down, his fingers traced his right hip. Following the three interconnected circles. First the black, blue and the purple before finally, in the spot the three circle became one, the Claddagh ring. 

Looking back to the bed, he saw that Face, always the lightest sleeper, had his hand outstretched. He took Face's hand and slipped into the space that was made between Face and Bosco. Murdock scrambled over the conman to settle himself on Hannibal's chest. Four sets of legs found a way to comfortably entwine. Bosco and Face threw an arm over the pilot's waist as they nudged closer to the Boss. With another happy sigh, Hannibal drifted off the sleep with the thought that his boys were with him and safe.


End file.
